


In the Lap of the Gods II: The Fall of the Wolf Slayer

by LaReineDuLune



Series: In The Lap of the Gods [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned, The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Crossover, Fluff and Angst, Gladiator Husbands, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands, Love, M/M, Nagron, Romance, Warrior Husbands, they just don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaReineDuLune/pseuds/LaReineDuLune
Summary: Prequel to my previous tale "In the Lap of the Gods".Life for Agron and Nasir east of the Rhine is not without hardship or strife, but at least they are together. That is until a seemingly unstoppable force threatens their peace and their very lives. The appearance of dark stranger with a beguiling smile, reminding him too much of Castus, sets Agron on edge, but this stranger may be their only hope.
Relationships: Agron/Nasir
Series: In The Lap of the Gods [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136753
Comments: 70
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

In the Lap of the Gods II: The Fall of the Wolf Slayer

©2021 La Reine Du Lune

Nasir’s back fell to the earth and landed on a firm bed and soft blankets, his energy utterly spent as he panted for breath. Sweat ran in rivulets down his chest as the throws of ecstasy continued to wrack his body. He and Agron were still joined with the smaller man’s thighs stretched wide across his beloved’s lap, firm cock still inside him as the last of Agron’s release left his body. He collapsed boneless atop Nasir, hips still pushing into him to grasp the last vestiges of his pleasure.

“Your cock is a marvel, it rises before dawn to demand attention as the crows do when they search for scraps of meat, every day without fail,” Nasir laughed as Agron smiled against his neck and licked the salty sweet sweat from his skin.

“And every morning you seek it out like sun cresting horizon,” Agron replied, pressing his weight down upon Nasir until the other man gasped for breath, “You could not think of prettier words than _crows for meat_?”

Nasir laughed and wrapped all four of his limbs around Agron, burying his face in the muscle of his shoulders. “Forgive me, I have just been fucked by a man the size of a bear. Mind is addled.”

“You are forgiven then.” Agron relaxed, suckling kisses over whatever skin of Nasir’s his lips could find. “I love you, Nasir. You are all and more to me. My heart is full and tended with care in your hands. I am grateful. The gods could not bless me more than the day I found you.”

“Such sweet words, you humble me. I love you with heart, mind, and soul. I am yours and yours alone for all of remaining days upon this earth, and for the afterlife. We shall never be separated again. This is my solemn vow.”

Agron drew back and smiled down upon the beautiful man in his arms. “There are my pretty words. I offer you the same vow. And my hand, if you would take it?”

Nasir’s eyes widened for a moment and then turned fond. “You offer marriage?”

Agron nodded, a giddy smile upon his face. “I do. I do. In the spring, when the Night of Hexennacht is upon us. It is tradition in these parts. Have you an answer for me?”

“An answer? You fool, has if answer would be anything but enthusiastic acceptance. I will take you for husband! Yes!”

Agron smiled into the kiss he took off the man beneath him, passionate and joyful. Within moments their arousal returned and the carried on well past the rising of the sun, the caws of the crows in the trees welcoming the new day outside the protective confines of their tent.

When finally the pair were satiated, Agron emerged first, naked as the day he was born and stretched his body out as his feet touched the frost on the grass. The autumn was upon them and while it snowed in the mountains it had not yet in the valley where they had taken possession of a plot of land at the edge of the forest. Only Agron could endure the morning in the nude, his body warm and hearty against the chill. Nasir remained inside to wash and dress while his lover walked over to their barrels of captured rainwater to dunk his head in and let the frigid water sluice down his body as he scrubbed the sweat and semen from his skin.

As he took a rough cloth to himself he used a poultice of olive oil, ash and lye that Nasir has insisted they amass in great quantities before leaving Roman territory entirely behind them. In hindsight Agron was grateful for it. One thing he had learned since returning home was that Nasir, though used to being covered in blood and sand from his years in the rebellion, had adopted the practice of liking to be clean and now that he had time and opportunity, Agron did too.

As he washed, he looked yonder to the home that the two of them had been constructing for the better part of the year since finally reaching Agron’s homeland. It had been at his insistence that they not build a simple cottage. Agron had foresight. He wanted a house Nasir could revel in. He wanted his man to own something he could be proud of. He wanted to give him everything he had never had. The labour however had been monumental.

Their land was fortuitously situated near a river at the base of the mountain, but beyond the outskirts of the village. Together they had felled countless trees and stripped them of branches and bark. They had gathered boulders from miles along the river and from the mountain paths. The hearth of their home would be its heart and soul, so Agron had built it larger than necessary. He had also the thought to heat the adjacent barn where the goats they would be receiving the following year could keep warm in the dark of winter. The barn would come in time, but first they had to see to the completion of the house. The hearth, chimney and foundation were complete and made entirely of stone with the Roman concoction of combining aggregate and mortar. Their home would ever be more durable than all the others in the valley. It was by pure chance that Nasir had learned the material for construction in the house of his dominus.

For Agron’s part, his father had taught him well how to interlock felled trees into place to create a home. With their combined astronomical efforts they had build their home – all save the roof. It was Agron’s sole ambition to have it completed before the first snowfall, but judging by how frost covered the grass each morning, they had little time left. Fortunately they had nearly completed their task. Nasir wove the thatch for the insulation and Agron placed it and the logs above it, securing all as one. Each time Agron went up to the heights of the roof, Nasir worried, but by the grace of the gods Agron had not fallen or lost his footing. At the end of each day however, Agron’s hands ached and trembled so violently he could barely move them or grasp a utensil to eat. While his wounds had healed, his hands were not yet themselves again. Nasir was confident they would be in time. Each night when the cold settled in, Nasir massaged his hands and bathed them in hot water until the tension in them released and some of the ache faded.

Too tired by then for anything but sleep, they held each other under their blankets and furs and slept entwined together until morning, until one of them awoke with amorous intentions, just as Agron had an hour before dawn. Had the roof not been paramount, Agron would’ve returned to Nasir that moment to take him again, and again after that. He doused himself in cold water to rinse away the soap, but also to calm his rising cock.

The sound of approaching voices over the ridge quelled any desires for his lover he might’ve entertained. Moving swiftly, Agron fastened his subligaculum about himself and grabbed for the nearest weapon, which happened to be a pitch fork.

“Nasir!” Agron called in warning. His mate, half dressed, emerged from then tent, spear in hand and a look on his face that spoke of wrath towards any who dared to disturb their hard fought for and won peace.

Agron exhaled when he spied men known to them, one among them being Otto who stood as mighty Chieftain to several villages in the valley. Nasir knew his face too but remained on guard as he took his place at Agron’s side.

“Jupiter’s cock, what does he want?” Agron growled. He had no special distain for the man and was grateful that he’d given permission for Agron to claim the land upon which he now stood. Still, he didn’t love him as brother, for he held an inexplicable prejudice towards Nasir that irked Agron to no end. Otto had made no secret he didn’t like foreigners, nor did he trust them. Agron’s word was not good enough to assure the man that Nasir was loyal to the clan. Agron’s hand brushed against Nasir’s in reassurance as he stepped forward to greet Otto, his son Ahren, and three other men of the village Agron knew and liked. “Otto!” Agron shouted in greeting, “What brings you forth to our land? Are you hungry? We slew a deer yesterday.”

“Greetings, Agron,” Otto called as he approached, not sparing so much as a glance at Nasir as he reached to clasp Agron by the forearm. The man stood as tall and broad as Agron himself, but his hair and beard were graying and lines marred his face. “We have no time for food, but gratitude for the offer. I seek my errant daughter, Hilde, did she come this way in the night?”

Agron looked back at Nasir behind him who stood stoic and silent. “No, Otto. We were a bed late and awakened early. We did not see her,” Agron replied. “She has quit your house?”

Otto nodded, his face stern. “Fool child seeks her death in search of that cursed Gaulish boy, Jehan.”

“We have not seen him either, but for two days past when he bid us farewell, intent on leaving for his homeland after his failure to secure position here. Good riddance to him.” Agron had nothing for or against the young man, a blacksmith who sought to settle in Germania after falling out with his father. For a Gaul, he wasn’t the worst, which was the best thing Agron could say about any of those lands. But, Otto did not like foreigners and Agron thought it best to keep up the pretense he didn’t like the boy either. Jehan was made to feel unwelcome by all, except apparently young Hilde. The girl was not promised to anyone yet in marriage though she was in her sixteenth year. “He did not speak of your daughter.”

“The wretched girl’s gone on him anyways. We are in search. Heed my warning to stay clear of the Black Wood. The wolves have returned.”

“Fuck the gods,” Agron cursed. This was not news he welcomed. The Black Woods were several miles to the west and avoided by most everyone for their density and tales of a witch living within. They were not safe to enter. Few who did ever returned. If the wolves native to those woods had been spotted by the villagers, none in the land were safe. The wolves of the Black Wood were abnormally large and vicious, hunting in packs with no fear of men. And to think he and Nasir lay vulnerable in their tent unaware. Looking back at Nasir he cast his love a questioning look. Nasir nodded and Agron sighed. “Give us time to dress and gather weapons. We’ll aid in search.”

“Gratitude Agron,” Otto spoke with an inclination of his head. He looked at the gray skies above and growled his frustrations. “Would that she had set her eyes upon you! A strong man of our lands!”

“You know well the match could never have been made,” Agron explained for what may well have been the hundredth time. “I am, thank the gods, immune to the charms of any woman. I have eyes for one, and one only.”

“Ah yes, your Syrian companion.” Otto cast and furtive glance Nasir’s way.

“My betrothed, Otto. My husband to be. I am for no woman.”

“More’s the pity. I’d have had you for a son. You’ve built a fine home indeed.” Otto admired Agron’s construction of the house. It was better than any in the village, including Otto’s own.

Agron nodded, and clapped Otto on the shoulder. “We will make haste.”

The lovers emerged from their ten in full garb and outfitted with weapons a plenty. Agron wore a sword at his side, even if he needed two hands to wield it now. He strapped his axe to his back and Nasir kept grip on his spear with several knives sheathed about his body.

“Do you think Otto will ever remember that I speak your language as if native?” Nasir asked as they set off.

“He’ll remember when he remembers that I have no interest in marrying his daughter,” Agron replied, sliding his hand into Nasir’s as they walked behind the others. “The fire in my soul burns for no one but you.”

Nasir looked up with him with doe eyes, as besotted as never. “My soul, is, and always has been yours.”

The grim discovery of poor Jehan’s body at the mouth to the Black Wood had all the men in a state of deep worry. He had clasped in his hand an amulet that Otto and Ahren recognized as Hilde’s. The crows had already had their morning feast and taken what flesh remain from poor Jehan. It was obvious to all that no man had done the deed. It was without doubt the aforementioned wolves. The ground was soft and Hilde’s footsteps led into the wood.

“We should turn back, Otto,” one of the men suggested. “I am grieved, but she would not have…”

“Hold your tongue!” Otto spat. For all his brusque manner, all knew Otto loved his daughter. “I will seek her, even to Valhalla if I must.”

Agron lay his hand to Otto’s shoulder. “You’re not abandoned, nor is your daughter,” he spoke as he and Nasir began to walk towards the woods. “Fuck me,” Agron grit out. “This is a course I do not favour.”

“You are a good man,” Nasir spoke in a hushed voice. “If you had turned towards home I would feel as if I did not know your heart. I am with you. Always by your side.”

“And I at yours. Promise you will not fall in these woods. Promise we will return to our bed together tonight.”

It wasn’t too often that Nasir saw his love uneasy such as he was now. Nasir took a firmer grasp on his hand and met his worried eyes. “I promise, Agron, I promise.”

“I dislike the feel of these woods,” Agron spoke under his breath and they advanced along the scant excuse for a path. “I feel eyes upon me. Do you not?”

“You are not without cause. The sun cannot penetrate through trees. It is colder here. It is a haunted place.”

“And wolves dwell within, they have killed Jehan and Hilde is probably for dead, but I will not say such a thing to Otto. I pray we never find that is her fate. No man should ever see their heart torn apart.”

“I pray to the gods that she is yet alive.”

“As do I. Remain close, do not leave my side, I beg of you.”

“Set mind at ease, my love, I remain. I have never seen you in such a state. Why such fear, Agron? You are the bravest of men.”

“I cannot give words to it. Only an immense sense of dread.”

“Tonight when we are in our bed, l shall assuage all fears, call you husband and kiss you.”

“Would that it shall be so. Forgive me for foolish utterances. I am famished and cold. Not in my right mind.”

“Agron, there is no need to offer explanation. I accept you as you are.” Nasir tugged on his arm and drew him in to kiss his cheek and Agron leaned into him. “I have observed foot prints until this point, after which the underbrush is too thick to see impressions. We must look as we do when we are on the hunt for signs that Hilde has passed one way or the other. Sharpen mind and forget fears.”

“You are wise, Nasir, as you are in all things.”

Behind them Otto and the others were as uneasy as their two would be leaders. Most men they encountered deferred to Agorn when it came to the strategies of battle or aptitude in training with weapons. His reputation was well established in the land, lauded by their fellow rebels who has settled throughout the various villages that dotted the valley. Agron was as a legend the eyes of some, and Otto favoured him greatly and often sought his advice. Ahren was only one year older than Hilde and barely a man. Agron was the sort of son Otto had always envisioned for himself. He was trusted and Agron did not take such a honour lightly. If only Nasir has been as readily accepted.

They walked ever deeper into the woods as a group, not daring to separate. There was no morning birdsong to accompany them, only the howl of the wind through the trees. As the hours passed, hope grew dim until finally it was Otto who spoke.

“We will turn around and return to known lands,” he spoke, his heart heavy.

“Otto, we have half a day, we may yet continue to search,” Agron insisted.

“I agree with Agron,” spoke Einar, a stocky man who reminded Agron and Nasir painfully of their dear friend Lugo. Einar was the village’s tanner and a good man with a comely wife and many small children. “It is not without hope, your daughter may yet be found. Were one of my young ones lost, you would not le me lose hope, nor shall we for yours.”

As Einar kicked off from the tree he had been leaning against, the old rotted trunk cracked loudly, sending all scrambling as the ancient fir suddenly began to fall upon them. All were separated as the giant came crashing down, its branches knocking them to the ground as they barely escaped being crushed. The noise had been deafening and all were left bruised and battered on the ground with hearts racing and eyes wide.

“That had not been my intent!” Einar shouted from somewhere under a mess of branches and needles.

Agron grinned and exhaled. The moment had passed and they all seemed to be intact. The forest was bleak, to be certain, but the tension had been broken by the tree’s fall. Agron rose and turned to aid Nasir up, only to find the man gone. Frantic, he began to search for him among the branches, his heart thundering in his chest. Peering all around there was no sign of him and a deep seated panic settled upon him. Just as he drew breath to call for him by name, another sound echoed through the woods and Agron’s blood ran cold.

The snarl of wolves was an unforgettable sound after one had heard it for the first time. Agron had been just a boy when he’d seen his father take one down with his axe. Agron had watched in horror as the lone wolf challenged the colossal man his father had been. Agron held Duro to him and shielded his eyes. It had all been over in seconds, but his father’s body had been slashed by claws and punctured by fangs. He had healed, and Agron had never forgotten.

The cry that next shattered Agron’s heart was unmistakably Nasir’s and Agron ran towards it as swiftly as a lightening strike, ignoring Otto, Einar and the others who would hasten him back and use caution. In the end the scream of a woman propelled the other men to pursue. Agron ran has if Cerberus himself was at his heels, weaving and dodging around boulders, branches and the underbrush, ignoring the pain as brambles tore his skin, all that mattered was setting eyes upon Nasir. He cast prayers above to Jupiter, to Odin, to Freyr, to any god who would listen. He could not face even a day in a world that did not include Nasir. The sounds of attack from the wolves echoed throughout the forest and grew in numbers. Agron had felt fear and the certainty of death many times in battle, and paramount when upon the cross, but all paled in comparison to the imaginings in his head as Nasir and the wolves called out in chorus. Agron did not need to set eyes upon the scene to known that an entire pack of the beasts were sharing in the spoils of a small Syrian, and Hilde too.

Cresting a hill to come and stand at the edge of a small cliff, Agron knew the carnage lay just below. His stomach roiled when he found silence in the forest. It was over. If Nasir was gone, then so would Agron be. He’d not even wait until the fall of night to end things. He’d not endure the loss of his love. Not after Duro, not after Spartacus, not after everyone he’d ever known or loved. Never after Nasir. Still, to keep himself from the inevitable anguish, Agron could not force himself to open his eyes, not until Otto as at his side, throwing his arm around his shoulders.

“Agron! You bastard, you didn’t tell me your man was so formidable a warrior!” Otto cried in jubilance. Agron had in fact told Otto more times than could be counted. “By the gods, I have never seen a thing such as this! Five wolves! Fives wolves! Hail Nasir, the Wolf Slayer!”

At Otto’s words, Agron opened his eyes. He jaw fell slack at the sight below. Hilde cowered against the cliff’s face, her face awash in tears and grime. Nasir stood straight, chest heaving, spear in hand and all of him drenched in blood. He looked up at Agron with eyes wide, longing and searching for Agron’s. Snapped from his inertia, Agron moved passed Otto and left the others in his wake atop the short cliff as he scrambled down the side of it and around to the forest floor where the five great wolves as big as Nasir himself lay dead at Nasir’s hand by his indomitable skill with his spear.

Being within distance of his love to touch him, Agron found himself falling to his knees instead, a sob of relief escaping him. Nasir’s spear was released from his white knuckled grip and he closed the distance between them. Agron’s arms flew around Nasir’s waist and he gripped him with all his might. Agron ignored the stench and saturation of blood in his clothes as he buried his face in Nasir’s stomach and wept.

“I thought you gone from this world,” Agron cried, muffled against Nasir’s body. “I have never felt such fear as in the moment I heard the wolves.”

Nasir’s blood stained hands gripped Agron by the roots of his hair. “A fear shared. I had no moment to speak. I saw as they hunted Hilde, I could but act and follow. I called for you, but the tree…” His voice trailed off and Agron looked up at him awash in tears and relief. “None will take me from you, though promise was broken. I left your side.”

“Forgiven! Forgiven, forgiven. You promised we would return our bed together tonight, and it is kept. My love, I am in awe of you.”

“I was faster, and my spear more deadly than fangs or claws. I pretended they were Romans.”

Agron laughed heartily and rose to his feet. He wrapped himself around Nasir and pressed kisses in his hair, then whispered into his ear, “Thank the gods you are whole. You will find me clinging to you for a long while yet. I cannot let go.”

“I do not mind, my love. I wish never to leave your arms.”

“Nasir!” came Otto’s booming voice as two large hands landed on his shoulders. “Agron let the man go, you’re like moss on a rock with him. I would break words with the Wolf Slayer!”

The men sighed and reluctantly parted from their embrace. Otto bodily turned Nasir around and for the first time in nearly a year, met his eyes. “I am in your debt, for my daughter, who would be dead were it not for you. The foolish girl will be punished…”

Nasir shook his head. He looked over to where Hilde stood, under the protective arm of her brother. “I would not see it be so. She is foolish, but she is young. She needs love and guidance, and perhaps enough chores to occupy her days so her eyes haven’t chance to stray to ill-fated Gauls.”

Otto chuckled. “You are as wise as you are brave! Agron, you boar, you simpleton, you should have said your mate was clever as a fox!” Agron had in fact said so. More than once. He could only roll his eyes. “Come men, we must quit this awful place.”

“Nasir, would you bestow your honour upon me and let me prepare the wolves’ hides for your home?” Einar asked. Nasir caught Agron eyes, his eyebrow arched. While Agron was pleased the men’s eyes had finally been opened to what a formidable and worthy man his husband to be was, he recognized the ridiculousness of each of them.

“Gladly granted, provided you keep one for yourself for the task,” Nasir replied. He was excluded from the burden and each man, Agron included, hefted one of wolves across their broad shoulders, each one weighing more than Nasir himself. When they reached Agron and Nasir’s home all of them were tired and filthy. Ahren took the wolf from Agron, and his knees nearly buckled under the weight of it. Once the group had disappeared from sight the pair took their soap paste, drying cloths and made their way to the frigid river to wash the excess of blood from their bodies and their clothing. Nasir loathed every moment in the icy water and was eternally grateful that Agron saw to the task of washing their clothing and coats. Their boots he would care for later, for they had to walk back naked to their tent wrapped in their cloths and bare feet would not suit.

Nasir’s teeth chattered as Agron set a fire to burning. They ate, finally. And as the sun began to set and their clothing was dry enough to be laid out in their tent, they retired for a well earned sleep. Nasir revelled at the feel and warmth of Agron’s body at this back and the blankets encompassing them.

“I should like to be fucked by the mighty Wolf Slayer tonight,” Agron whispered in Nasir’s ear.

“I doubt you could summon yours or my cock to rise, I am exhausted,” Nasir spoke in a mumble, burrowing deeper under their blankets and pulling Agron’s huge arm closer around his body. “We must see to the roof tomorrow. Otto said we’d have snow before the next full moon.”

“You are right, as always. The desire to be had by you is strong, but body proves too tired to do more than imagine the act. It is more than enough to hold you.” Agron buried his nose in Nasir’s still damp hair and shuddered as tears came unbidden to his eyes. “I could have lost you!”

“Hush, my Agron, I am in your arms. I shall never leave them. Would that the gods grant us a lifetime together, a millennium would not be long enough to love and be loved by you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Given the miles they’d walked, the labours they’d endured and the emotional turmoil of the previous day, neither man was in a rush to rise from their bed come morning. Agron got his wish of being fucked by the ‘Wolf Slayer’ shortly before the sun had risen, as Nasir took him quietly but forcefully until Agron had been left a weeping mess under him. Satiated and fulfilled, the pair languished in bed trading kisses and soft words of love. Agron toyed with the curly strands of Nasir’s hair. Since they’d left the heat of the southern part of the continent behind them, his hair refused to remain straight, no matter how thoroughly it was combed. Agron was well pleased by this. At present, Nasir lay stop Agron with his head tucked under his man’s chin as Agron’s fingertips traced up and down his spine while Nasir pressed kisses to Agron’s chest. Light crept up under the fabric of their tent but neither made to move.

Both were startled and reached for a weapon when the flap was abruptly pushed aside, revealing Otto himself.

“It is no wonder your roof lies incomplete if you both tarry in bed so long after the sun has risen,” he boomed jovially. “Come, dress yourselves and join us, we’re all here!”

He was gone a moment later and the two men remaining stared at each other in shock and dismay. “Agron, who is _all_?” Nasir asked, feeling a definite sense of dread. Agron had no words. They rose and dressed quickly, including their woolen coats for much like in past mornings, there was a new layer of frost upon the land. Agron had scrubbed the leather of their boots the night before, and while the outsides were still a little damp, they were warm and dry inside. They emerged into the bright sunlit day and stopped short. There had to be as many as a dozen and a half men from the village, as well as a handful of women and children.

Their fire pit had been set ablaze a new over which a huge cauldron had been set up, into which pieces of two freshly skinned hares were being added along with roots, tubers, water and herbs by two women. Woven bundles of thatch filled a cart that approached, hauled by a great black horse. There was already a pile of logs by the side of the house, and two men up on ladders at the roof, pointing and discussing how they intended to continue the work.

“Otto, what is happening,” Agron asked in astonishment.

Otto was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “My good wife, Isilda, reminded me last night that perhaps the reason your home has taken so long to build was not because you are lazy, but rather that you and Nasir work alone and your hands…” Otto gestured to Agron and the heavy scars that marred them. “You’ve done formidable work, my boy, and my wife again reminded me that we have not been as hospitable to you as we should have been. You were born in these land and are our kin. You have suffered great loss, that of your brother, and your parents in the time you’ve been gone. You are owed, and so is Nasir. Were it not for him, my daughter would be dead. This is my gratitude, this is gratitude from us all. It is what you are owed and we have been remiss in denying it to you. There isn’t a man in these lands who doesn’t know your name, who hasn’t been touched by your stories of fighting for freedom. You returned many to our lands that would otherwise still be in bondage under Roman hands. You’re a hero among us. We’ll have your roof completed by day’s end.”

“Otto… I have not the words… gratitude. Gratitude beyond measure!”

Otto grunted, and waved him off, never one to be caught being overly sentimental. “Come, Nasir. The men would hear of your skirmish with the wolves. Grab your spear, I think a demonstration is in order. Agron, there is a keg of ale. Poor your man a drink.”

Nasir grinned at the expression of disbelief on Agron’s face at the order and gave his rear and affectionate pat as he left to join Otto with the other men of the village. Agron stood back and let him have his moment, he had more than earned it. Agron overheard Otto stating that he had no idea Nasir has taken to their language so effortlessly, and Agron nearly choked on his own tongue when he heard Nasir reply that he, “Knew Agron’s _very_ well.” Fortunately the implication had not been noticed by Otto or the others. Nasir winked at Agron though and in return Agron narrowed his eyes at his love. Eventually Agron abandoned observing his beloved and climbed his ladder up to the roof of the house were six good men strong and true were discussing and complimenting the work Agron had done so far as they in turn followed his pattern and work to match what he’d already accomplished.

True to Otto’s word, by late afternoon the roof was complete. The group ate together of the stew in the cauldron and the bread that had been brought. They drank the ale and a mead, and one by one they all departed after Nasir and Agron had given them all their deepest, most heartfelt thanks. By the time last the last of them were out of sight, it was nearly nightfall. Some of the women had kindly swept the planks of wood Agron had laid over layers of sawdust and small river rocks. He’d interlocked them in order to ensure their stability. More than one man had asked him how it was done. The wolf hides would be most welcomed by the hearth, which was where Agron knelt to bring both warmth and light to their new home. Still disbelieving it was finally complete, he paused and stared up at the ceiling as the kindling finally took flame. In his wildest imagination he’d never truly believe he’d be where he was now.

Meanwhile, Nasir had busied himself by carrying everything from their tent into the house. Most of their belongings and what little furniture they’d acquired was already inside. Nasir brought in their bedding and dropped it unceremoniously beside Agron, who took the hint and began to lay it out again, a smile painted on his face. For the better part of the year they’d slept out under the elements, protected buy only the oiled sheet of canvas that they had carried from the beginning of the rebellion until this moment. Now it had been folded and tucked away in a corner. Agron rose and walked outside to where Nasir was closing the shutters on their window and aided him by standing at this back, laying his hands on Nasir’s arm and nuzzling behind his hair with his nose.

“Today has been among the fondest I have in memory,” Nasir spoke.

“All possible because of you,” Agron replied, wrapping his arms around Nasir’s waist and kissing his temple.

“I heard Otto’s words, you are loved and respected. I feel now as if we are truly home.”

“And tonight we sleep before a roaring hearth, where we will drink wine and fall asleep under our own roof, within our own walls, in each other’s arms. I have not had a day this glad… ever. All fortune fell upon me when I laid eyes upon my wild little dog.”

“Call me little again…”

“Yes? You are, you are my little man and I shall revel in it! I cannot be deterred. But…” Agron’s mood turned and he gently bit into the muscle at the top of Nasir’s shoulder where it met his neck, causing the other man to gasp and lean back against him. “Not all of you is little, as evidenced by the ache in my ass I’ve endured all day.”

“You are one to speak of such things! I have seen stallions that do not compare!”

“Such words inflame me…”

“After all these years?”

“You know that a mere glance my way would have me on my knees before you.”

“A tempting thought. Come, before the cold takes us. I wish to sleep under the roof my new home with my husband’s arms around me, not have cock turn to ice under harsh winds.”

Agron smiled and with his arm secure around Nasir’s waist, led him to their door. “I fear the first snow will be upon us sooner than expected. We have prepared as best we may. We should make our way to market soon to bolster our supplies. The first snow is always mild, those that follow are not. There will come a time where we will not be able to traverse the lands and even the hunt will prove fruitless.”

“We have grain a plenty, meat that has been smoked or salted, fruits and nuts we have dried throughout the summer. We have firewood and an entire forest should we need more. You made certain we purchased wool to wear beneath our few furs. You have said more than once we are prepared. You have doubt?”

“No doubt, only fear. I hope I have prepared us as best as possible. Winters East of the Rhine are unspeakably harsh. We will survive now that our home is complete, but it will not be easy. I cannot impress upon you enough that we will feel a chill even more dire than when the rebel army was in the mountains. And we must stave off boredom and isolation. Our companionship may be tested.”

“Or, we will languish, sleep, and pass our time in intimate pleasures. We have dice, the Chaturanga set old Sigfrøðr carved for us, the Hnefatafl and the Draughts as well. Simple but ample to occupy minds. You speak with dread, yet you have told me how you and Duro revelled in each other’s company when children.”

“Children are easily entertained.”

“I will make a bargain. If you grow weary of my company…”

“Cease words, I shall never grow weary of you. Forgive me? So many of my days have been ruled by fear. It is not easily shaken. We will be content and happy. We are well stocked. We enjoy each other as friends as much as lovers. We will be well and content through long winter’s nights.”

“You are ridiculous creature, but my love for you grows ever stronger as each day passes. Now, I am no bride, so I will cross our threshold on my own two feet, but I would have you take my hand.” Grinning Agron accepted what Nasir offered and hand in hand, the walked inside.

With the night at their backs, Agron urged Nasir to carry on as he closed the door behind them and secured it for the night with a solid log across the width of the door, secured in its place by supports. Not even a bear could break in. Next he bolted the shutters in their place, and secured the deer hide across the small gaps around the window to keep the cold further at bay. He sighed, warm and content within his new home, but his words died on his tongue upon the sight of Nasir standing at their hearth in front of the roaring fire with tears streaming down his face.

“Nasir?” Agron questioned, the concern in his voice evident.

Nasir shook his head and wiped furiously at his tears. “Apologies, I am overwhelmed. That is all,” he explained. “I have never had a home of my own. In my wildest dreams I had not imagined such a thing. I am eternally grateful to Spartacus for my freedom. For _our_ freedom.”

“Spartacus may have set you on the right path, Nasir,” Agron spoke in a hushed voice, his own emotions tightening his chest. He approached Nasir until he was close enough to touch him, “But it is you who chose to walk down it. You seized opportunity with every chance presented. _You_ were the wild little dog that would not be tamed once collar was gone. You are as fierce as a wolf, and as strong, in all things. As a warrior, as a lover, as a man. I have always believed in you. I have always been proud.”

“You humble me with such words.”

“I speak truth. Come, let us warm ourselves at our hearth.”

The pair shed their boots and coats and sat themselves on the mat and blankets that would serve was their bed until a proper one could be made. They had only a small table and a chair each. Agron had grand plans for benches, a large table, shelves and much more. He would see their house made a home. Bathed in warmth and the amber glow of the fire, the two men stared at each other with the deep abiding love that had been forged and strengthened in their years together. Agron poured them wine and they drank together in companionable silence, looking back and forth at the flames and each other.

“I have something to show you,” Agron spoke, breaking the silence as he reached into the shadows to clasp a leather pouch he had kept hidden since before the time they’d laid Spartacus to rest until the present moment. He dropped its weight into Nasir’s hand, the sound of coin from within. Nasir’s brow furrowed as he emptied the content on the bed between them. Before him was a good handful of silver Roman coins, a chain and medallion that Agron once wore that had mysteriously gone missing one day. In addition, there were more pieces of silver, amulets, beads and charms, all collected together. Nasir gave his lover a questioning look and Agron cleared his throat, suddenly gone quite shy. “Two years passed, I had given foolish thought to our future. It was a vague hope that our freedom might continue after we had brought Rome to its knees. I found and kept what silver I could with the intent of asking for your hand much sooner that just two days ago. I loved you, still love you, with such depth and breadth that found myself thinking that perhaps we could be happy. As you know, I am a fool and followed Crixus, setting you free to find joy without me beyond Rome’s grasp.”

“You are a fool. There can be no joy in a world absent you.” Agron nodded, attempting not to dwell on the poor decisions he’d made in their past. “You wanted us to wed? Even in the midst of the rebellion?”

“I nearly asked Spartacus to find us… someone, anyone who could perform ceremony, but I held tongue. I would not bind you to me then, I was… was… not a man deserving of your love.”

“You speak nonsense. I’d have had you from the first. Our souls are one, are they not?”

“Two halves of a whole. I believe that now. I place all my faith in this.”

“The silver? It’s purpose?”

“Their purpose shall be fulfilled. Before leaving with Crixus, I bade Laeta to keep these safe, to give them to you so you might begin again with more than just your wit and skill. It is not much, but it would’ve been a start. I wanted to provide for you. I know you find the notion near to an insult…”

“Not when it is born out of love. I’d have seen it for your intent.”

“My memory would’ve been a blessed one?”

“In time, yes.”

“I’m gladdened. But, here we are, together, our path clear and promises made. I would take this silver to Ulbrecht in the village to the east. He’s a fine smithy and craftsman who does much finer work than Warin to the village in the west. I would have him make two circlets for our wrists, upon which a binding rune divined by Rilla may be carved. The old woman favours me and thinks you a rare beauty. She’ll do it for us if we beseech her. When we wed, we may exchange our tokens to seal our union. That is my wish… if you wish it too.”

Nasir did not speak, but gathered the silver back into its pouch then reached for him, reeling him in with his hands upon his wrists, urging him to come closer. Clothing was shed quickly and kisses became heated and ravenous while hands kneaded or stroked bared flesh. At length Nasir found himself on his back, and Agron finally, slowly slid deep inside him. Their eyes met again and Nasir smiled up at the man who held him close in loving arms. Holding his face in his hands, Nasir spoke for the last time that evening. “Husband... we are home.”

***

The next morning came far too early for two who had not earned enough sleep after their passions had wiled away too many hours before sleep inevitably found them. They awoke slowly and washed before breaking their fast. They dressed and armed themselves before securing empty packs to their backs, intending to make the hour’s long walk to the western village and the market to bolster all their supplies, not expecting to leave their homestead for at least two moons hence afterwards. The first snow had fallen during the night, not even to their ankles, but Agron thought it wise to take the sled he’d fashioned over their wheeled cart. One day they had hopes of a wagon and a horse.

Upon the sled they lay the freshly smoked deer hind quarter to trade, the rest hung in the storeroom within their home. With their home secured, they set off. The hour’s walk was pleasant, and they did not feel the bite of winter save for their faces. They saw no one else on the road. They were welcomed warmly by all those they met upon arrival and made conversation about the weather, the Yuletide Season ahead, and so on.

Every set of eyes were upon them was they walked through the market row. Agron heard whispers of the words _wolf slayer_ as they passed. Nasir’s reputation had preceded them and no doubt he’d been lauded by Otto. Agron felt a swell of pride when children ran to Nasir to ask him to tell the tale how he slew five wolves by his spear. Agron let him stay behind as he gathered and paid for their supplies. While they already had the essentials for surviving a long cold winter, Agron was willing to spend a little of the coin he’d reserved for their home on a few indulgences. He did buy another sack of grain, but also more wine and honey. He wasn’t certain they’d see the wolf skins off Einar until the Spring, given how much snow was to be expected, so he acquired another woolen blanket. He traded the deer leg for a sack of hazelnuts and a vial of oil made from the same. Lastly he got more salt as he expected to hunt throughout the winter.

A couple of hours had passed since he’d last seen Nasir and went in search of him. The village was fairly substantial in the valley, so it was large and it took him some time before he learned of Nasir’s whereabouts. He was found at the home of their Chieftan, drinking an ale and laughing alongside a good portion of the village. The noise was heard from a distance. There was an open spit upon which turned a large boar, roasting under tall flames.

“Agron, my boy!” came a shout from a drunken Otto’s mouth upon spotting him on the edge of the crowd. “Make way for the man! Isilda! Hilde! Fetch the mate of our Wolf Slayer an ale!”

Agron sighed wearily and set the sled and the two packs by the door to Otto’s house before making his way to were Nasir sat on the bench next to Otto, and Otto’s brother Cadoc on Nasir’s other side, just as drunk as his brother. Nasir was well on his way judging by the glassiness of his dark eyes.

“You’ll stay for the evening meal and sleep at my hearth!” Otto declared. “Everyone will be there! You cannot refuse. Besides, it’ll be dark in an hour, you’ll never make it home in time!”

Agron pinched the bridge of his nose. They could make it home, if they departed presently. While he was sure Otto’s accommodations were excellent, Agron did not wish to spend one night away from his and Nasir’s new home, but, Nasir seemed happy and Agron was pleased that he had won the favour of so many. He felt he had no recourse but to indulge, especially when Nasir had finally found the favour Agron had longed hoped for him. He took the ale with gratitude from Otto’s wife, and sat himself beside Nasir when Caroc vacated the seat. Nasir leaned against him and offered him so sweet and loving a smile and eyes shining with adoration, that Agron gave in and pressed a firm kiss to his love’s temple. He was resigned, and therefore determined to enjoy himself among his kin and see that Nasir had a good night of revelry.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They were up with the sun the next morning, heads sore from drink and not enough sleep, bodies aching from resting in a foreign bed, and minds a little foggy. They quelled their roiling stomachs with oats and honey before finally bidding farewell to Otto and his family and thanking them for their hospitality. They wished them a winter without troubles and thought it likely they’d not see each other before the Spring. They embraced their hosts and parted before midday.

“Agron?” Nasir ventured as they neared their home. “Are you well? You’ve not spoken since we left the village.”

“Apologies,” Agron spoke in a quiet, rough voice. “The mead has given me a wicked pain the head. Once we are home, I ask that I may take to our bed. Might I implore the favour of you putting our things in the store-hold? And the lighting of the fire? I fear I shall collapse upon reaching our door. Head feels as an entire battalion of Roman horses runs through it.”

Nasir rubbed a soothing hand across Agron’s back in sympathy. “My love, gladly. I lament you suffer pains. Perhaps mead should be avoided in future.” Agron nodded his head and winced. Nasir took his arm and released the rope that was wrapped around it, pulling the sled. “Let me. You carry the heavier pack.”

Agron bowed his aching head. “Gratitude. I did not drink so much as to cause such a pounding. Even body aches.”

“Sleep will see you restored, I will tend to the day’s chores, though there are not many now that the roof is complete. I will set to organizing the house. Years in slavery held one value. I can tend our home.”

“I would have our home in disarray and chaos to have spared you.”

“I know. I love this of you. But, past can never be changed. All our woes are distant memory. We embrace joy as we do each other. I will skin the branches you set aside to fashion bench. Do your hands ache? I will tend to them too. In last night’s revelry I was remiss.”

“They are not bad. They can wait.”

“I’ll not have you wait, if you are in pain.”

“Sleep by a warm fire will cure all that ails me. Stomach is unsettled.”

“Did you purchase the gunny of dried mint? For tea?”

“I did not forget.”

“Good, I will boil water.”

“Gratitude. I offer apologies, for ailing husband. I promise to prove worth on a better day.”

“Agron, my beloved fool. I love you on your worst days most of all.”

***

Once they reached home, Nasir urged Agron inside, made him his cup of mint tea and tucked him under their blankets before a roaring fired before leaving him to rest as Nasir went about completing their chores. Agron slept the entirety of the day away, and by the time Nasir had finished his work, the man had still not wakened. Deciding not to disturb him, Nasir set their larger cauldron to boil in the flames while he cut up a hare he’d caught in a snare he’d left the previous morning. He made them a simple stew, and flavoured it with rosemary, sage and thyme, adding grain to bolster it as he hadn’t the will to grind it to make bread.

“Agron, my heart,” Nasir spoke in his love’s ear as he lay his hand to Agron’s shoulder and gently shook him. “Agron?”

“Mmm…” was the only reply Agron offered, turning himself further inward and shivering violently.

Nasir frowned and his brow furrowed. It was then that he noticed the beads of sweat on Agron’s face. Gently, he lay his hand to his skin and drew his hand away quickly. Agron felt as is he were on fire. “Agron, you must wake,” Nasir pleaded, giving him a firmer shake.

“No, you must leave me,” Agron mumbled. “I am ill. Stupid fucking Otto!”

“What has Otto done? You have fever, your skin is as fire.”

“And it fucking feels like it. Instincts told me to take us away and not spend the night! This is my reward for having ignored the warning. Every winter the sickness passes through the village and I am cursed. I know not to gather in numbered company in the winter. Fuck, I feel as death.”

“Agron… what do we do?” the tightness and worry evident in Nasir’s voice caused Agron to open his eyes and sit himself up, which he instantly regretted as he wavered and nearly collapsed back to their bed. He looked at the panic in his love’s eyes and offered him a sallow grin.

“You must keep your distance for one, so as not to catch this plague…”

“Plague!”

Agron cringed at Nasir’s outburst and gestured for him to keep his voice low. “I misspoke, it is not so grave, merely a fever and an ache throughout the body. Sleep will cure me, and food once stomach has settled, perhaps broth from stew now will help…” Nasir was on his feet in an instant to fetch him the broth, nearly burning his hands has he withdrew it from the fire. “Easy, little man, I am not far gone. In three days time I’ll be whole. I’ve had this same illness many times as a child and it passes through quickly. I will be fine. I promise.”

“I have never known you to be ill.”

“You have seen me battered and broken beyond reckoning.”

“That is not the same.”

“No, it is not.” Nasir passed him a cup of broth and Agron sipped at it. “There is nothing to be done but to let it run its course. It is not so bad. It won’t carry off anyone East of the Rhine to the afterlife.”

“You are certain?”

“This is the worst of it already. Now, I would off apologies. I do not wish you to endure this along with me, so you must be absent from my arms and I will pray that whomever has passed this fever to me has not done so to you. Take the new blanket and sleep a distance from me.”

“I do not like this.”

“It is an unkind welcome to winters East of the Rhine, but we will endure. I hope your words whole true that you love me at my worst, for this may be it. I will begin complain bitterly at some point. I may ask for your arms, but you mustn’t give in to my pleas.”

“Do not jest. I am fearful.”

Agron lay a comforting hand to his love’s knee, caressing it with his thumb. “Nasir, nothing will take me from you. Understand, I am of a hearty stock. This is a common illness I have endured before. Rest and your presence is all I require. The soup is good, you have a talent for cooking.”

“Then drink it to the last drop, while I curse Otto and all you German fucks for making me worry.”

Agron chuckled and downed the broth before setting the cup aside and laying himself back down to sleep, tired from their short conversation.

“I cannot even kiss you?” Nasir questioned, the pout evident in his voice.

“You may kiss every part of me, when I am well. I would sleep now, if you please…”

“Apologies, rest my love.” Nasir hurriedly covered Agron with the blankets, squeezing his shoulders and fighting the urge to at least press a kiss to his forehead. Agron was asleep again in moments. Nasir ate his dinner in lonely silence, watching Agron sleep it fitful turns, alternating between shivering and then casting the blankets aside. Nasir stood vigil with a deep, heavy emotion gripping him like nothing ever had. He’d rather face the entire Roman army than see his beloved man in sickness. After he’d tidied their home and watched over Agron for a time while stoking the fire, Nasir fell to a miserable sleep absent their softest blanket against his skin and the arms of his husband-to-be holding him.

***

True to his word after three agonizing days, Agron began to return to his usual self. He had indeed complained bitterly about the ache in his body and the discomfort of the fever, but so long as he was talking, Nasir could only smile and take comfort in it. Agron had not just complained, by whined, and pouted and felt very sorry for himself while Nasir waited on him hand and foot. He’d seen Agron be childish, with his petty squabbles with Crixus, but he’d never been as a child so as when he had taken ill. Nasir rarely thought of Agron’s mother, but he sympathized with her. Still, throughout, Nasir was glad for it all, as no one on death’s door could blather on quite as much as Agron had.

Nasir had been terrified in the beginning, having seen too many fall to disease over first his years as a slave, then throughout their journey from Roman territory to Agron’s homeland as freed slaves succumbed along the way. He knew all too well how a fever could carry a man off with only so much as the nick of a blade. By the third day, Agron was up and washed and eating a full meal, and then finally accepting the kisses Nasir offered him. After having languished inside the house for many days and nights, Agron yearned to take himself outdoors. Nasir had admirably tended to all the chores around their house, save for one he’d only half accomplished. He’d taken Agron’s axe and split all the remaining logs that had not gone into the construction of their home down to size for their hearth. It had been hard work that had left Nasir’s back and arms aching, but it had been good work. However, he’d not yet carried the huge pile to add it to the collection under the eaves of the house. That was his task for the day as Agron decided they should bring down one more tree to be certain they had enough wood to last through until spring. Agron’s anxiety over them not being prepared had at times becomes like an obsession, but Nasir had always managed to tether him. He gave no protest or complaint when Agron walked part way into the woods behind their home to select the best evergreen to bring down while Nasir got to moving the wood from the pile to the house.

Agron breathed in the crisp air until his lungs felt as if they might burst then exhaled slowly. His heart beat at a steady, vigorous rhythm, his body covered in a sheen of sweat and his arms hot from swinging his axe over and over again against the aged fir. His clothes had begun to cloy to his skin and he thought perhaps it was time to take a break and see how Nasir was fairing with moving the wood pile. With his trusted and heavy axe resting at his shoulder, Agron walked the short distance from within the woods to their home. It had begun to snow again and they likely had no more than two hours of light left to them. He hoped the morning wouldn’t see the ground too covered and he could finish bringing down the last tree.

At first Agron wondered to himself if Nasir had gone inside to start a pot of food for the evening meal. They had not eaten since breakfast and the warmth of one of Nasir’s stews would be most welcome, after a wash and a cup of wine. But, there was no smoke rising from the chimney. When his eyes passed over Nasir, Agron at first did not realize what he was seeing. He thought the prone shape on the ground was more of the logs, dropped between the pile and house, but the moment realization dawned upon him, his axe was cast aside and he set off in a run towards Nasir, sliding to his knees before the unconscious man.

“Nasir! Nasir!” Agron cried, in a blind panic, turning him on to his back and checking over his body for any sign of life. Nasir’s small by perceptible groan immediately brought tears to Agron’s eyes and he could not hold them back as took Nasir up in his arms and hurried him towards their door. He kicked the wood on its hinges inwards and he rushed Nasir to their bed to lay him down. Agron wiped furiously at his face and took in a necessary breath before seeing to his husband to be. Under the light from their open door, Agron’s heart clenched seeing how Nasir’s honeyed skin had gone pale and his cheekes reddened. One touch of his hand to Nasir’s forehead told Agron all he needed to know and he cursed himself bitterly. Nasir was hot with fever as Agron had been. Despite keeping Nasir had a distance, he had still been affected.

“A… Agron?” came his love’s weak plea, his eyes fluttering open but unable to focus.

“I have you,” Agron spoke, touch his hand to Nasir’s clammy cheek. “You must rest. You will be well in three days just as I was.”

“My head…”

“It pains you, I know. It will pass after sleep.”

“Every part of my aches, I feel as if on fire.”

“Do nothing, conserve your strength. I will undress you, start a new fire in the hearth. Sleep and I will wake you to eat. I’ll make a broth…”

“Mind you… you don’t… salt…”

“Hush, I won’t. I won’t use too much salt. Just, please rest. I will care for everything. Trust.” Nasir gave him a faint, weak smile before succumbing. Nasir’s mouth went slack and his limbs loose. He was lost in slumber and Agron stayed motionless and stared at him for a long while before a frigid gust of wind broke him from his self-recriminations. With a quick, pained glance at Nasir, Agron got to work. He stormed outside and retrieved his axe, holding it in his hand in a white knuckled grip before he let it fly and embed itself in the nearest tree.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he roared. “Fuck the whole lot of you, vengeful gods! Why cast this upon him!” He cried out his frustrations again before fetching his axe from the tree. His grip caused his hand to spasm and he he swore again, cursed Otto and the gods once more. He picked up the axe one last time and tucked four large logs under his arm for the fire. He brought them to the house, left them inside the door and returned to the woodpile for more. He didn’t want to have to leave Nasir alone again. He closed up the house and lit several candles before seeing to the fire. Once it was a blaze, he placed two cauldrons near the hearth, each filled with water. He took pieces of dried venison, along with chopped up pieces of turnip, cabbage, celery and onion, and added a few sharp roots to give the soup heat. He was grateful that Einar’s wife dried herbs all year long and that they’d acquired a goodly amount for their meals, he added a mixture of them to the water. He refrained from using grain to make sure there was plenty of broth for Nasir, and added an appropriate amount of salt so as not to earn his love’s ire. As he hoisted the great iron cauldron into the fire to boil, he tested the water of the other and was pleased to find it warmed enough.

While he’d worked, Agron had counted each and everyone of Nasir’s breaths, every noise he’d made and every movement of his body. With practiced hands, Agron lovingly removed Nasir’s clothing until he was bare. The man was pliant and unknowing under Agron’s hands as he took warm cloths and dipped them in the water to clean the sweat from his body, just as Nasir had done for him when he hand been ill. Once they were rinsed, he placed them by the window to cool so they could be laid on Nasir’s fevered brow. He covered Nasir with clean blankets rather than the ones Agron had been under during his convalescence. Once the cooled clothes were on Nasir’s forehead and the soup bubbled away, Agron sat himself down at Nasir’s side, exhausted beyond measure and it was then that the knot of worry that had form in his gut upon seeing Nasir collapsed in the snow began to tighten.

Nasir did not look as Agron had. He was far, far too pale. His brow was hot to the touch, but his hands were cold in Agron’s own as he held them. In just the hour they had been indoors, Nasir’s breathing had a slowed to a gasping whine as he inhaled and exhaled. His body was very still, too still for Agron’s liking. Agron had slept in noisy fits, barely allowing Nasir any rest, but now their home was silent as the grave. Agron worried his thumb nail with his teeth and stared intently at Nasir, willing him to awake and complain as Agron had done, but he remained still and Agron worried, and worried, and worried.

When the soup was ready, Agron pulled it from the fire and let it calm from its boiling point. The tempting scent made his stomach growl from hunger, but he’d not have anything until Nasir had been nourished. He filled a cup with the broth and blew over it until it was warm and wouldn’t burn on the way down. He set the cup aside and knelt by Nasir, gently shaking him, calling his name with intent, trying to wake him, but there was nothing. If Agron hadn’t felt Nasir’s heart beat beneath his hand on Nasir’s chest, he’d have sworn the man was already dead. Such dark thoughts clouded Agron’s mind as he poured the broth back into the cauldron. He lay himself down beside his beloved until their faces were a mere breath apart and Agron watched and worried, and worried and worried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Trigger Warning:** Nasir experiences fever dreams, hallucinations, and speaks of events from his past that include non-consensual sexual assault, as well as intimating similar abuse towards younger slaves in his Dominus' house.

Chapter 4

The silence of the night was obliterated by an anguished squall and Nasir’s limbs flailing out of his control. Agron, who had reluctantly fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber, reeled back in shock and narrowly avoided getting hit. When he’d regained his senses, Agron looked and found Nasir wide eyed but unseeing, clutching the blankets to himself with tears in his eyes. Agron reached for him and Nasir recoiled, shuffling away until his back hit the stone of their hearth where the fire burned hot and low.

“Nasir?” Agron spoke in a strained, frightened voice. The language that came from Nasir’s lips was not one Agron knew, but the tone was full of fear and woe. Nasir cowered against the stone, trying to hide himself under the blankets as he shrank in fear whenever Agron moved even an inch closer. “Nasir, I will not harm you. Do not you recognize me, husband?”

Still the strange language tumbled from his lips and it dawned on Agron what he was speaking. He had heard similar spoken by Ashur to a group of traders who’d come to Batiatus’ door long ago. He odious man had been summoned from the ludus to the balcony where he’d spoke with his countrymen and served as translator. Agron had thought Nasir’s mother tongue long lost to him, and he recongized that the grip of the fever held so firmly to him that his mind had regressed two decades to when it had been the only language he had known. Nasir had been taken from Syria as child from Agron had been told. Nasir remembered little other than the life of a slave, his earliest memory was of being held in the arms of a brother who’s name was as lost to him as the land of his birth. Two words were repeated in the nonsensical litany that poured from Nasir’s lips, that of _Sayid_ and the other unmistakable, _mama._ Agron’s heart broke for his scared an delirious love.

Nasir had told him he remembered that once his brother was gone from him he was utterly alone and terrified. He slept cold, hungry and in the dark without comfort, and that comfort had not returned until Agron had first kissed him, and then later, held him in a tender and protective embrace that asked for nothing other than his presence and warmth.

Nasir flinched and wept as Agron approached him, laying a gentle hand to his shoulder as he wrapped another blanket around him. Nasir whimpered and trembled as Agron pulled him near and into the circle of his arms. He tucked Nasir’s head under his chin and stroked his hair, trying to sooth him even as he still begged for his mother.

“Nasir, you are in loving arms,” Agron spoke in a hushed tone to his ear. “No harm shall ever befall you again, not while I draw breath. You are safe, my love. You are safe.” Nasir continued to cry and his brow continued to burn hot, but Agron held him and kissed into his hair and rocked him gently until finally he relaxed.

“Fret not, young one… I will protect you,” came the slurred words from Nasir, this time in the Roman tongue. They had not spoken in it for a year now, not since returning to Agron’s homeland.

“Of what do you speak?” Agron asked, his voice low and curious. It appeared that Nasir’s memories were being brought to the surface as the fever raged through him. Agron would’ve traded anything to have spared them both this horror, for it seemed now Nasir was still far away from him, even as he held him in his arms.

“You are too young for what Dominus has planned for us tonight. You must be given at least one more year. I will ensure that you are spared. I will take your place and service them all. The Bacchanalia comes only once a year to this house. You are too young…”

“Nasir, please do not continue, I cannot bear this…” Agron’s stomach roiled at imagining what Nasir’s was reliving.

“Hush, do not weep… I promise you’ll not be touched. I will tell Dominus you are ill, or injured. I will convince him you are unfit to service guests. I will take your place. I will protect you… they will not touch you. Hide in the kitchen, with the cook. She is kind and will give aid. If you bury yourself in the slurry vat that is to be thrown out after feast, you may escape. You are so small, they will not miss you until you are gone. Run into the forest, hide, survive… escape…”

Nasir’s words moved on from what ever poor little soul he had protected, to a supplications for his body to be spared injury, for rest or relief after he was taken, used and debased at whatever pack of monsters his Dominus had brought into the villa. Agron held him all the closer and wept with him and offered whatever comfort he could, knowing that there was none that could ever erase the merciless hell his beloved had endured. It was a wonder to Agron that Nasir had ever survived. His suffering had been greater than Agron had ever allowed himself to imagine. Nasir had always dismissed the subject and preferred to look ahead rather than to the past. Long after Nasir had fallen back into his slumber, Agron did not let go or cease his own anguished weeping for a long while after.

With the dawn, Nasir’s condition had worsened. The stillness from the day before had given way to blatant suffering. Drenched in sweat, the man spent the earliest hours of morning moaning and writhing, heaving with an empty and dry stomach until his body jerked in seizure before his eyes rolled back into his head. After countless hours Nasir fell still again, barely breathing and skin as white as the new fallen snow. Agron could bear it no longer and took himself outside after having washed Nasir’s inert form and given him the blankets he’d cleaned and dried by the fire.

It had snowed all night and now stood halfway up Agron’s calf. The sky was cast in a hazy gray and he knew it would snow again by nightfall. They were in the thick of it now, winter was upon them. There would be at least the passing of two moons worth of days and nights to come where all roads would be impassable. He could not go to any of the villages for aid. He could not leave Nasir. He wondered if Otto and all their friends had been stricken with the same illness that had passed so easily through Agron but gripped Nasir as Cerberus ready to drag him to the underworld.

He knew that Nasir was close to death and that there was little chance for recovery. They had not had enough time together. A thousand years would not be enough. The gods, as ever, were capricious and cruel. Had they not suffered enough already?

Agron closed the door behind himself to keep Nasir warm and walked a short distance from their home, just far enough that he could turn back and behold it in its entirety. He shivered, dressed only in his linens and soft boots and looked at all they had accomplished in their year since escaping Rome’s clutches. This was _their_ home. They had built it together stone by stone, felling trees and carrying rock. They’d slept in their tent each night, dreaming of its completion, dreaming of finally, finally, embracing their future, and now it was all but ruined. Nasir barely held on to his life and it was fading was each moment passed. Would that they had died on the battlefield together, then they would be in the afterlife where no more harm could befall either of them.

Agron looked at his home and then to the place where their tent had been for so many moons. He asked himself if it would please Nasir for it to be their final resting place. Should he dig them a grave? Or construct a funeral pyre. He knew that he’d not live a day longer than Nasir, whether he perished from a broken heart, or by his own hand. He’d not wait to join his love in the afterlife. What had Nasir said to him? There was no joy absent him. There was no joy for Agron absent Nasir.

He looked up at the sky and the heavy clouds ready to let the snow lay another blanket upon the earth. His tears came upon him a fresh and he blinked them away under the sting of the cold winds that paraded over him.

“Duro…” he whispered, unsure why his brother’s name came to his lips, but deep inside he felt their connection stir within. He had not brought his brother’s body home to rest, but Agron knew he’d brought his spirit with him and in this instance he was sure he felt it near. “Duro!” he spoke with greater conviction. “Duro! Mother… father… Spartacus? Spartacus, Naevia, Crixus… Lugo! Any of you, any of you loved Nasir, or me. I beg of you, beseech the gods to spare his life. I will take any recompense in balance. I will toil in Hades for eternity if could be healed. I will give anything… anything… _please_.”

He bit into his lip until it bled. No answer came. He was alone. Sensing Duro at his side had been a fantasy only. He got to work building the pyre. The ground was too frozen to dig a grave.

***

Nothing had unchanged by nightfall. Agron had tried to coax water past Nasir’s lips, but the man had only breathed it into his lungs and coughed violently until he’d heaved, then collapsed limp in Agron’s arms. There was little Agron could do but wait until the moment came when Nasir’s last breath left him. And once that moment had passed, he would ready the house for whoever would next take possession of it, and see them to the pyre. Agron was through with begging and entreating the gods to intervene. They were as silent as ever.

When the last of the light faded, Agron knew Nasir would not see its return. The snow had begun to fall again. By morning it would be to his knees. Agron lamented they’d not see their first Yule together. It would’ve been celebrated alone by just the two of them, but it would’ve been the first and Agron had looked forward to sharing the time with him, showing him the traditions his parents had shown him and Duro. There was so much he had longed to share with Nasir. They already called each other husband and felt the connection down to their bones and as the blood flowing in their veins, but Agron had wanted a proper wedding for them. He had wanted to take Nasir as his before the whole of the western and eastern villages. He had hoped Laeta and Sibyl and the others would’ve made the journey from the eastern settlement to join them in the festivities. It had been too long since they’d seen the babies of their fallen brothers.

The winds howled like ghosts at their door and the snow fell from the sky in droves. Agron held Nasir’s cold hand in his and contemplated if he should let the fire die out when a pounding began at their door. Instinctively, Agron ran to take up his axe, prepared to defend their home at whatever miscreant wanderer had come to their door in the dead of night.

“For pity’s sake, I beg of you to open your door,” came the muffled but urgent voice of a man. He spoke their language, but the accent was wrong and peaked Agron’s curiosity enough that he considered the man’s request. He looked back at Nasir and wavered. “I have been bidden to come to you by your Chieftan Otto, son of Utto. I am half frozen! Please man! He gave me the names of Agron and Nasir, are you not within?”

Agron shook his head in annoyance, looking to the sky and begging for an answer to why the gods sought to fuck with them even further. He strode to the door and kept his axe in hand as he opened it to reveal a man heavily robed with skin as dark as midnight. For a brief fraction of time Agron saw another face, that of a man slain on the battlefield who Nasir had held as dear friend that Agron had only come to truly understand in the man’s final moments.

“They said I was better to die frozen than to come inside their halls,” the man explained through chattering teeth. “The village is stricken with illness and I gave what I could in aid, but they’d not take me in. Otto took pity and said I may find refuge in this house.”

“You’ll find us faring no better,” Agron spoke solemnly, the pain on his face obvious.

“May I offer my skills as healer? I have medicines from the East beyond Rome’s hand. I gave most of what I had to the village, but my stores are not entirely depleted.”

In that instant Agron felt much confusion. To begin with he was certain someone had just lain and an insistent hand upon his shoulder, but he knew Nasir was still abed. There was a voice in his ear that did not speak words, but it gave him the sense of Duro speaking them. He shook his head, sure he had gone mad, but found himself stepping aside to let the stranger pass and come inside.

“Gratitude. I give you my name, it is Lykon. I have travelled far and have further to go yet. I have taken the long road from Hispania and go North towards the Steppes in search of one I call sister, though she is not of my blood. We have been separated for some years.”

Agron closed and secured the door behind him, setting his axe aside. He did not quite trust this man, but if there was any hope that he could help Nasir, Agron would risk all. The man who called himself Lykon looked at Nasir where he lay by the fire as he set his pack down and shook the snow from his head and shoulders before removing the cloak he wore over his furs and the furs themselves. As his layers were removed, several blades were revealed to be fastened to the man’s body and Agron tensed.

“A man must protect himself when he is alone on foreign roads,” Lykon responded, before removing the belt that held the sheaths of two swords and handed them to Agron. “You have nothing to fear. I am a wanderer and when I fight, it is to protect the innocent and free the oppressed. Otto said that you and your man fought with Spartacus. His legend is known far beyond the borders of Rome. You have only my respect, and gratitude for shelter. Now, tell me, what ails him that was unlike your own sickness? I’ve seen to many in the village, but all had their senses about him. Tell me of him. His is not of these lands judging by his name and his darker skin.”

“He is of Syria,” Agron responded, setting the handful of weapons down by the door.

“Syria! A magnificent land with a generous, boisterous people. They are extraordinary artists, I have a blade from Syria, allow me to gift it to your man when his is healed.”

Agron wanted to be jovial and welcoming with their guest, but every moment Nasir was not himself was torturous to endure. “Please,” Agron spoke, gesturing towards the prone man, “I cannot bear to part from him, can you help?”

Lykon nodded and his hands dove into his satchel, removing several pouches and vials, bringing them with him as he knelt near Nasir’s head. First he touched the skin of his face, frowning and furrowing his brow. He listened to his chest, counted his breaths and pulled at his skin, only to watch it receded slowly. “You have not ben able to help him take water?” Lykon asked.

Agron sat himself at Nasir’s side and shook his head. “He not wakened, save for fevered outbursts that pull him from sleep but not dreams. He spoke in the tongue of his childhood, long forgotten to the man in waking hours.”

“It is not uncommon. Tell me everything.”

Agron recounted the events from the morning they departed Otto’s home to Lykon’s knock upon their door. “Why does he suffer so severely? I will lose him, won’t I?”

“Not if my methods take. I met a man called Einar who’s youngest was not long for this world and I brought her back. The key is to break the fever. You take good care of him, that is plain to see. He is not worse for anything you have done. I have travelled far and wide from one end of this world to the other and know that what afflicts one man and sees him standing the next day, will take another to his grave. Nasir is not of your blood or your lands. That is why is near death. What have you in those cauldrons? I would have water to boil.”

“Broth in one, tea made from dried mint in the other.”

“Mint! Mint is very good. Here, take this vial and rub the oil into his chest, I will mix my herbs with the mint and we will force him to drink. It will strengthen him like nothing else in the lands. I promise.”

Lykon passed the oil to Agron and he pulled out the stopper to sniff, recoiling instantly as the pungent, sharp scent made him dizzy. “What is this?”

“It is from the camphor tree. It grows to the East, beyond even Syria. It is precious, but I give what is left to you and Nasir. I can always get more, after I find my sister. Now, save some should he fall ill again next year, but be generous, rub it deep into his skin. Agron did as he was bid, noting the cooling effect it had on his palm and how it cleared his senses much like the mint did at its strongest. He could see how it would benefit Nasir as he worked it into his skin. Meanwhile out of the corner of his eye he observed as Lykon extracted herbs, oils and powders from his various pouches and added them to the mint tea as it warmed near the fire. “Tumeric, pelargonium and ginger, my friend. They will hearten him and push the fever from him. Garlic and cloves are grown here, they will aid too. Next year. As will Elderflower. Each land has its own cures for what ails its people. It has taken me a lifetime to learn, but surely there is an elder-woman somewhere in these lands who will know. You look at me with questions, ask them.”

“Are you Cilician?” Agron asked, his face clouding over.

“What about me begs such a question? Ah, you hold animosity towards them? I can tell by the look on your face. No, I am not. I am Macedonian. Tell me, what have the Cilicians done to earn your ire?”

“Where to begin? But it is one I hold in mind. You resemble him. It matters not. Jupiter’s cock, I’d pray to even _him,_ if it would restore Nasir!”

Lykon smiled at he spooned the tea mixture into a cup. “I shall hope it does not come to that. Now, we must tend to your man. This will not be easy as it must be forced down his throat. If you hold him up, I will rouse him and force him to drink. You must hold him still and he will struggle. I will do the more difficult work.”

As much as he did not want to distress Nasir, Agron knew he had no choice. Gently he raised Nasir from his reclined position and back against him, wrapping him up in his arms and bracketing Nasir’s legs with his. Lykon meanwhile uncorked a small phial and waved it under Nasir’s nose. As if he’d been struck with lightning Nasir’s body jolted violent and his eyes shot open wide. Swiftly Lykon clutched him by the chin firmly to open his mouth and poured the mixture in. Nasir struggled and coughed to expel the liquid, but Agron held him caged while Lykon persisted. A good portion of it ran down his chin, but he’d swallowed most of it before falling back into Agron’s arms.

Lykon wiped away the mess from his face and neck with one of the cloths for his brow and Nasir stared at him glassed eyed and dazed, unaware that Agron held him.

“Castus?” Nasir question, his head swimming. “How many times must I bid you to leave me be?”

Lykon caught Agron’s eye, “He was a friend, this Castus?” Agron nodded but the sour look still appeared on his face. “He was the Cilician?” Agron did not need to speak for Lykon to understand. “I come because we are friends, Nasir,” Lykon spoke. “You’d do well to sleep.”

“Leave me! Leave me to fade and die. I want to be with Agron. Had I not done as he bade and cast you from sight at the first, he would not have left to follow Crixus. The blame for his death is mine to burden! Be gone! Cease coming to me. How many more times must I refuse your aid? You bring food I will not eat, water I will not drink. I wish for nothing but death… without Agron at my side… there is no hope for a life…” Nasir’s ranting fell into tears and sobs and soft pleas for Agron. There had been little words between the two on the time they had been apart, and Agron had no inkling that Nasir had blamed himself, especially when Agron knew that it was his own foolishness that had driven him from Nasir’s side. Before Agron could speak, Nasir’s thought and conscious left him and he went limp in Agron’s arms.

Lykon said nothing as he tidied his potions, phials and satchels into the pack he’d brought them forth from. Agron remained silent as he held Nasir as his mind churned with the imaginings of all Nasir had endured in his absence.

“I don’t expect you’ll take any food?” Lykon ask after a time. “The soup looks hearty and I have not eaten since yesterday, may I?”

“Eat your fill. I can make another, should he wake.”

“Gratitude, my friend. There’s nothing to be done now but wait for the medicine to do its work. You don’t look well. You should eat.”

“I cannot stomach it. Not while he…” Agron’s voice trailed off and he said no more, but turned his face into Nasir’s hair and held fast to him.

“You do yourself no favours not taking rest or nourishment. He will need you strong and whole. When fever has finally burned through him he will be weak for several days yet. He will need your strength.”

“Eat and cease words.”

Lykon shrugged, unwilling to provoke his host any further. “The Cilician was not your friend?”

Agron glowered, but spoke nonetheless. “A friend to Nasir, a rival in my eyes.”

“And where is he now?”

“Dead, upon battlefield, as are many who fought for Spartacus’ cause.”

“And yet you and your lover survived. You are blessed indeed. Do not think your gods have cast you off. Wait until morning to decide.” Lykon helped himself to supper and ate quietly while Agron watched. When he was done Lykon set the borrowed bowl and spoon aside and added more logs to the fire to see them through the night. “I will be to bed now. I would advise you to sleep, though I know you will not until Somnia comes to claim you himself.” Lykon unfurled a bed roll that had been fastened to his pack and brought out a blanket to cover himself with as he lay down by the fire. He rested his head against his pack and yawned. “You may speak to him. I have long believed that our connection to those we love are at their strongest when we are at our most vulnerable. I have been close to death many times and I always listened for my sister’s voice and always it finds me and draws me back to life. Yours would do the same for Nasir, I believe.”

Agron could not find his voice and instead pulled the blankets closer around Nasir’ body as he held him. Lykon smiled and closed his eyes, falling to sleep after only a few minutes. When Agron was certain Lykon had fallen into slumber, he turned his attentions to the man in his arms. Wrapped in their blankets, Nasir still shivered, even as sweat beaded on his brow, but after having sat vigil for long, Agron was unwilling to release him. He turned his face into the side of Nasir’s neck and kissed over the faint scarring of where his slave collar had been, thinking of when they had first met and all they had experienced together from that moment until the present.

“You must not leave me, Nasir,” he whispered in his ear. “You must not leave me alone in this world. I cannot bear this life without you. We have only just begun. Remember? We spoke of raising children if the gods were so generous as to bless us with a foundling. We are meant to grow old together. You are my heart, Nasir. Please, I beg of you, do not leave me.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Agron had inevitably fallen asleep as the night had waned. The snow fell outside and Nasir’s fever raged. Agron came back to consciousness upon hearing Lykon moving about their home. In the night, he had turned his and Nasir’s bodies into more comfortable positions, with them on their sides and Agron behind Nasir, holding him still as they’d slept. Agron opened his eyes and realized that Nasir still lived. The relief that washed over him was immeasurable.

“His fever has broken,” Lykon spoke as he packed away his possessions into his bag and readied himself to depart with the dawn. He had lit several candles and added more wood to the fire. “He will live. He sleeps now because his body is tired and no longer must fight for life. He should wake in a few hours.”

“You leave us?” Agron spoke as he carefully extricated himself from the bed and he lay Nasir in a comfortable repose before making is way to Lykon. “You need not, stay as our guest. We owe you more than can ever be measured.”

Lykon laughed softly and smiled. “My friend, the soup and the shelter are payment enough. I am glad Nasir will be well. It is plain to see that he is your heart, and I can only presume you are as loved in return. I too love, and wish to continue the journey in search of my sister. Any day I wait, is a day we are further apart.”

“She must be a formidable woman for you to travel so far in search of her.”

“There is none greater in all the word. She is a warrior, a goddess, and my oldest friend.”

“And you will find her, across this infinite world?”

“Always. I have take provisions from your stores. Not much, but enough to see me to the next village and a few days after that. How far is it?”

“To the east, half a day’s journey. In winter, you may reach them by nightfall. When you arrive, ask for the house of Laeta and Sibyl. They share a house with their infant sons. They are guarded by a man called Pollux, a Numidian who stands as tall as I. Give him my name and tell him I have asked them to give you aid. If he does not believe you, remind him that I know he has a serious aversion to rats and he is in my debt for the one I liberated from his cell upon my first night in the Ludus of Batiatus. He will glower, but accept your words as truth and give aid. Take all you have need of from our stores.”

“I have what I need, gratitude. I will not linger. I have done my part and my gods may bless me on the road. It is my purpose, to help, the heal, and to kill those who would delivery evil upon the innocent. I believe we are of the same mind, Agron who fought with Spartacus. I think my sister would like you. Can you ride a horse?”

“Well enough.”

“Then yes, she will like you. Perhaps one day we will return to your lands and you can meet her.”

“Gladly! Lykon, you are certain will not stay another night? So that Nasir may wake and thank the man who has kept him tethered to life?”

Lykon shook his head and pulled on his layers of clothing and furs. “I will not, but I go heartened that grief has not touched your house this day. Give him my greetings and apologies for being absent.” Reaching out, both men clasped each other by the forearms, Agron not able to find further voice in their parting as his gratitude was immeasurable and he had not the words to express it. Lykon only grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of each other.”

Any with that, their mysterious Macedonian saviour opened the door to a clear day and snow up to his knees. Agron watched as the man gathered what he’d left outside their door, a pair of snow-shoes Agron knew the fashioning of well enough, and a spear with a gleaming silver tip that would’ve made Nasir envious had he laid eyes on it. Agron waited until Lykon was out of sight before he returned back inside to the warmth of their home to wait for Nasir to awake.

Throughout the day, Agron busied himself between moments attending to Nasir has he slept, checking his brow each time and finding him mercifully free of fever, though still in an exhausted slumber. Agron needed only to see those soulful dark eyes open and have clarity for Agron to truly feel free of torment. He cleaned, reconstituted the soup, added water to the tea, and lovingly wiped Nasir’s face free of sweat and dried tears. He gathered more wood and brought it inside. He set all to right as it should be and waited.

Reward came just as the sun was due to set. Agron sat cross legged at Nasir’s side, resting his palm in his hand with his elbow to his knee. His eyes had closed and he meant only to rest them, but began to slip away into much needed slumber.

“Agron?” came Nasir’s hoarse and quiet call. “Agron!”

Nasir’s risen his voice snapped him from his inertia and Agron nearly toppled himself. He stared in awe at his beloved, who turned to face him and looked up at him with familiar eyes, tired but in possession of his senses yet again. “Nasir,” Agron breathed out in a sweet release of all the fears he’d held close for long days as Nasir lay in the throws of his illness.

“I have been lost in dreams,” Nasir spoke as he pulled the blankets back over his shoulders, to which Agron reached out to help. “I feel the pull of them again already.”

“Stay! Please stay a moment longer.”

Nasir yawned and closed his eyes. “Only if you come closer and share bed. I would have your arms around me.” Agron did as commanded in an instant and fit himself quickly behind Nasir, snaking one arm under his head to give him a pillow, and the other around his waist, pulling him back against his body. “Your touch is always a comfort. I would rest a while yet. I have been lost in dreams absent of you. I should like you to follow me into my dreams.”

“What would you have me do in our shared dream?”

“Lay me in a field of wildflowers, let us be naked…”

“Close your eyes, my love, and I shall meet you there.” Nasir said nothing in response, but closed his eyes and fell to slumber once again. Agron tried in vain to remain awake, but the pull of sleep after having had so little of it while Nasir was ill, he could not stay awake a moment longer. He relaxed and pressed his weight against Nasir’s form, taking comfort in how the other man made a noise of contentment in response and snuggled closer. Whether or not he found Nasir in his dreams he knew not, for the next thing Agron knew was Nasir shaking him awake.

“We’ve slept too long,” Nasir spoke as he roused Agron from slumber. “A new day is upon us.”

Agron blinked and rubbed the grit from his eyes. “Dawn already? It was barely dusk when I lay down.”

Nasir was still within his arms but had turned on to his back and looked up at Agron. “My love, we smell awful. When did we last even wash?”

“Nasir, do you not remember anything?”

“Remember?”

“You nearly were for the afterlife, claimed by a violent, unrelenting fever! I have been in a state of perpetual torment for days!” Nasir reached up to lay his palm to his cheek. Upon contact, Agron began to cry. “I thought I would lose you.”

“Agron, I…” Instead of offering words of comfort, Nasir drew him down and kissed him, causing Agron to break entirely. They continued to kiss and Nasir tasted Agron’s tears until the man had drained himself dry of them. “I was truly close to death?” Agron nodded, his face buried in Nasir’s neck as he cleaved to him. “I was lost… lost in a place. I thought it to be real. You’ll think I have lost all sense if I tell you.”

Agron drew back and Nasir wiped away the wetness from his face with the tips of his fingers. “I would hear it.”

Nasir sighed and pushed at Agron until the both sat up. Agron reached for Nasir’s hands immediately and threaded their fingers together. Agron marvelled a him and Nasir stared back, not yet fully understanding all that had transpired since he had fallen ill, but plainly seeing how distressed Agron had been. In their years together, Agron had allowed himself to open his emotional and vulnerable side to Nasir. He had been able to abandon his bravado and his ego in favour of them forging a deeper connection born of words in heartfelt confession. They had never felt more secure in their relationship. Nasir marvelled at him as well.

“Come, I’ll have the tale,” Agron urged.

“No, you will think me mad.”

“You have chosen to bind yourself in marriage to me. All in these lands already think you mad for it. In earnest, their opinion of you could not be less favourable.” Agron laughed weakly at his own jest and Nasir knew him to be an oaf already and smiled in return.

“Remember, warning was given.”

“Duly noted.”

Nasir leaned in closer, taking his hands from Agron’s and trailing them up his forearms and under the sleeves of his linens, his touch leaving the fires of both love and lust in their wake. “Nasir,” Agron breathed out, falling into bliss at him being so near and finally safe again.

“I was in the Black Wood, lost. I did not know where the North stood or the course of the moon. All was dark and I could not find path. I could hear the wolves, coming through the trees in pursuit, but I had no weapon. I knew that I searched for you and that you were lost to me, removed from sight, from touch. You were elsewhere and I yearned for your arms around me, protecting and coveting me. I stand a warrior, but in the Black Wood I was but helpless babe. All the while I felt a tremendous fear, and a yearning, a yearning so strong and deep I felt its weight pulling me to the earth. I yearned for you. Heart was cleaved in two at your absence.”

A single tear trickled from Agron’s eye and down his cheek to his chin, from which Nasir leaned forwards and kissed away. “I felt the same, when you were taken with fever, away from my side even as I held you in my arms.”

“I could not hide in the Black Wood, only wander, fearful and without direction. I thought I was in the afterlife already, and being punished… for… for letting my gaze wander to Castus too many times.”

“You have assured me that it was only ever your gaze, and I believe your words.”

“They are truth, I swear. “

“You needn’t swear. I know you do not lie. I was fool then, I am not now. You never touched him. I do not hold doubt. You need not hold guilt for merely looking. I ask forgiveness for my jealously. It was born only out of fear of losing you to another man, nothing more.”

“A fear unfounded, I have always been yours.” Agron nodded and kissed Nasir upon his forehead. “The Black Wood was endless and as time passed I became ever more lost. Then, _they_ began to appear.”

“They?”

Nasir nodded and shuddered, then on impulse quickly maneuvered himself into Agron’s lap and cowered against him as Agron readily embraced him. It was not often that his small size did not belie his skill as a warrior or his self-confidence, but in this moment he wanted nothing more than to hide in Agron’s magnitude and be sheltered and protected. “In the shadows… the men who slew my mother after… I remembered what they did to her as my brother held me and covered my eyes and ears. Then, we were on a ship… and I was sold to my Dominus. His name was Sayid, my brother. I recall both his name and his face now.”

“You spoke, in your dreams. You called for them, and I held you, just as I do now.”

“I moved deeper into the Black Wood where… I do not wish to speak of it.”

“You need not do so. I heard how you suffered, the words you spoke, your prayers that went unanswered as those Roman shits used you.”

“I thought I would never escape, but then, salvation came in the form much like yours, with features a semblance of yours, but it was not you. This man slew them and took my hand and took me from their sight, their touch. He knew way through the forest. He lead me to path. I knew… Agron I cannot give words to feeling, but I loved him. He was dear to my heart, as Sayid was, but I had never lain eyes on the man. He was tall, with dark hair in matted strands. His smile was joyful, his eyes kind. He wore a ring of gold through his nose and another in his ear. He told me to walk path and I would be free of the wood, and then he kissed my brow and I knew nothing more of him.” Nasir looked up at Agron and found the man awash in tears. “Agron?”

“Duro. It was Duro. By the gods, he heard my prayers.”

Nasir has never met Agron’s brother, nor had Agron described him in any particular detail other than to say Duro took more after his mother’s family and Agron after his father’s. “You truly believe it was Duro?”

“It could be no other, not as you described him, and Nasir, he is your family as he is mine. He protected you when you could not protect yourself, just as he did with me the night the House of Batiatus fell.”

“Beloved brother and guardian to us both.” Nasir relaxed and Agron’s arms tightened around him. “We are blessed. I love you.

“And I you.”

Agron closed his eyes and held fast to Nasir, who was living, breathing, and safe in his arms. The revelation about Duro had shaken him, but also heartened him. While the gods saw fit to favour them or cast them aside on a whim, family did not abandon family, even in death. Agron thanked Duro from the depth of his heart. Nasir, for all his bluster that they had slept too long had turned into him and fallen back to slumber already. Nasir was right too, they both needed a wash, and food, and much more. All things would be taken care of in time. For the present, Agron was content to hold the man he called husband, and know that their future was not lost after all.

A glint of gold caught his eye and Agron looked to where Lykon had made his bed for the night. There, placed upon the stone of the hearth was the Syrian dagger he had spoken of. It was nothing short of exquisite with its intricately carved design upon the hilt and the dark lapis lazuli that adored its end. It was a gift beyond any price that could be fetched in these lands, just as Lykon’s fleeting presence in their lives had been. Agron would not soon forget their mysterious saviour and he could not wait to tell Nasir of him.

***  
_Some 2000 or so years later on the isle of Malta…_

“You must forgive her,” Nicky spoke as he approached Agron and lay a hand to his shoulder. Andy sat some distance away from the villa, alone on the sand, staring out at the ocean. “She does not believe in any deity, nor does she believe in fate.”

“I have not caused offense?” Agron asked in response, gnawing at the inside of his cheek in worry. When he told the group of the mysterious stranger called Lykon who has once saved Nasir’s life, he had no concept of how the man might’ve been connected to his immortal family.

“No, you have not. You have merely challenged her entire concept of reality.“ Nicky could not help but grin. “She is unable to reconcile that you met Lykon. She casts away all thoughts of destiny and cannot fathom that all was meant to be as it is. I believe in fate, I believe in hands beyond the mortal world shape it and place us upon our path. Your chances of meeting Lykon are too astronomical to begin to calculate. I suspect she will dismiss it eventually, as she does all things that question her beliefs, but deep down she will always consider the possibility that we were all meant to find each other and be together.”

“I believe in the will of the gods, however much I curse them. I try to see their wisdom and it eludes me always. Though, how may I question them when they gave me Nasir and have not take him from me despite all attempts made?”

“It is a grand ambition, to attempt to know the mind, or minds, of an ineffable creator. Men have spent lifetimes doing so. I feel our purpose is better spent in acts of kindness, of helping those who cannot help themselves, in loving our husbands, and so on and so forth.”

“And what of Andromache?”

“She has spent thousands of years denying that there is a plan in anything. You’ve made her question this. Forgive me for being amused. You have done what no one else has been able. This may be a moment of spiritual growth for her. She’ll be in a foul mood for a few days. Perhaps you and Nasir could enjoy a few days in Valetta? Just until Quynh has managed to pacify her. Until then, the day wanes, there is wine to drink and husbands to take to bed. Come.”

Agron spared a last look at his friend and sister, wondering once again what the gods had planned for them all, and hoping fervently that the they would be kind. After all, what more could they possibly do?

The End


End file.
